"Where's his cocked hat and his sword and his uniform?"
"Oh, say," cried Joe, disgusted at such evident lack of knowledge, "he doesn't wear them in his office."
"Where does he wear them?"
"When he's fighting—on the quarter deck of his flagship."
"He doesn't look like a fighter."
This was too much for Mr. Joseph Hart. He stuffed his handkerchief in his mouth to keep from screaming. He butted his head against the cushioned back of the sofa, and he performed various other silent, but none the less effective, gymnastic exercises. After he had exhausted his merriment, he turned to the Cleverly boy and said, reproachfully:
"Can he fight? Why that man sunk the entire navy of a great European nation in about twenty minutes."
"Twenty minutes?" gasped Barry, awe stricken.
"It was less than that," cried Joe, following up his advantage, "it happened this way. The Admiral was taking breakfast in the cabin of his vessel with some friends. He took a sip of his coffee and then said, 'please excuse me.' He went up on deck, and in a few minutes he returned to finish his coffee, saying, 'ha, I'm glad that's done.'"